Rolling in the Deep
by PaintedinAllColors
Summary: The effect of Katherine's betrayal on Damon.


Me: Yet another one-shot inspired by a song. I don't own Vampire Diaries. And you can blame Adele's Rolling in the Deep for this one. It really is a great song. =) Enjoy, and reviews would be appreciated greatly.

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><p>He hated her; hated her with every single fiber of his being. He threw the glass against the wall, where it shattered, just like his heart, and the pieces scattered on the floor. He had given her his heart; given her his love, and she had held it in the palm of her hand and knowingly crushed it. She had known that he loved her; she had played him like a drum, and his idea of her had been as real as an air guitar.<p>

"Get out!" he screamed at the half naked girls in the room, eyes blazing in a fury that masked the pain he was feeling. Terrified, they fled his presence, eyes wide and showing nothing but fear. Good, he thought, with a savage satisfaction. That was how it should be; they should flee at the sight of him, not want to comfort him. They should hate him, despise him; he was their dark lord, and they hated and feared him. They should not try to help him. His face twisted into a demented version of a smile. He laughed, but it was cold and held nothing but malice. The anger at her, at him, at the world, consumed him, like an inferno blazing through his veins. It ignited something within him; and it burned hotter and hotter, and it took control of him; clouding his senses and only leaving a primal, deadly, urge to kill. His face relaxed, and became almost unreadable; a mask hiding the turmoil of the emotions beneath it. He grabbed his jacket and narrowed his eyes, allowing a small smile to creep onto his face. It grew and grew, into a truly maniacal grin, and he dissipated into insane laughter as his eyes glowed with murderous intent.

!~!~!~!~!~!~!

He threw the body of the man onto the road, where it crumpled to the ground, an empty, lifeless husk. A twisted smile worked his way onto his face. Just like him. It should have been strange that he found humor in that statement, but it wasn't. He burst out laughing; rich and hearty laughter that still seemed cold and lifeless, as if to remind him how much like that man he really was.

"Except I am not dead," he said sardonically to the dead body. Gales of his insane laughter pealed throughout the empty street, and a chill night wind blew away the clouds, and the full moon illuminated the lone figure with blood running down his face and eyes blazing with pure, unadulterated rage. How could he not be sated by now? He had drained several of those pathetic creatures, but he still thirsted for blood. Or was it violence and death? Bloodlust and pure malice emanated from his figure as he began his slow, leisurely walk back home. Only his expression and the blood running down his face would have betrayed him; otherwise, he looked like anyone else enjoying a nice nightly stroll. Quickly growing bored with his slow pace, he used his superior speed to get back in almost no time at all. Who cared if he was caught? It's not like anyone would miss him when he was gone. Katherine had abandoned him like a used tissue, which showed how much the world really cared for him.

"Damon," the pathetic excuse of a vampire that he was unfortunately related to began to speak.

"Yes?" he replied laconically, his tone relaxed like he hadn't just gone on a killing spree.

"You need to stop this, now," his brother said, wearing a pained expression. "You're going to get us caught."

"As if you care," he said. "You want me dead and gone so you can have Elena to yourself. Admit it, little brother."

"No," the other said stubbornly. He grew tired of his stubbornness, and slammed his back against the wall.

"You hate me, Stefan. Admit it," he snarled at his brother, bringing the other's face close to his own; close enough that he could see the insanity shining in his eyes.

"No, I don't. I may want you out of Mystic Falls, but I don't hate you," his brother replied. Instead of pacifying him, the answer only served to infuriate him more, and he lost more of his barely there control over his rage.

"Yes you do!" His eyes burned with a hellish internal flame.

"No, I don't," the other said calmly. Damon simply threw him across the room in disgust and stalked back to his room. He took off his bloodstained shirt, baring a lithe and muscled torso, only marred by a single scar, right above his heart. He fingered it gingerly. It was the one thing that would remind him of Katherine that he couldn't get rid of; it was a symbol of his past love for her. He had been shot there when trying to save her in 1864. It would forever remind him of what could have been. No, it would have never happened; Katherine never loved him, never loved any of them. He glared at himself in the mirror, cursing himself for being as weak as to love. He casually tossed the discarded shirt into a corner of the room and ran his hand through his usually perfect, now disheveled hair. He noticed the presence of a heartbeat in the room, right behind him.

"What do you want, Elena?" he snapped, suddenly angry again.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, with the whole…," she trailed off, noticing the slightly unhinged look in his eyes.

"Well I am fine Elena," he said apathetically.

"No, you're not. Your heart is broken, and-," he cut her off by slamming her against the wall. He heard her heartbeat accelerate, and enjoyed his for some sick reason.

"What heart, Elena?" he asked, letting the cracks on his face show and baring his fangs. He bit her, enjoying the taste of her sweet blood. He let her go, and she stared at him in utter horror. Without another word, she left the room, and he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of regret at his actions. No, it was for the best. He refused to be hurt again, and she needed to see the real him; the heartless monster that was Damon. He smiled a distorted version of his own trademark smirk. It was fitting; after all his heart had been ripped out earlier.

"You're going to wish you never met me, Katherine. You're going to wish you had never come to Mystic Falls. I'm going to make you burn; make you pay for this. And I hope you think of me with fear, because I'm coming after you," he said, maniacal grin widening, eyes shining with a bloodlust that would only be sated when it saw the sight of Katherine's dead body.


End file.
